


The Arc of Conflict, Edda 14e: it's always personal

by bzarcher, solarbird



Series: Of Gods and Monsters [82]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Lesbian Character, Curses, Decisions, Diplomacy, Fighter Pilots, Gen, Gods, Medical, Miracles, Multi, Oasis (Overwatch), Other, Post-Talon, Slipstream - Freeform, Strategy & Tactics, Talon Fareeha "Pharah" Amari, Talon Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Trans Sombra (Overwatch), Volskaya Industries (Overwatch), War, misjudgement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 14:37:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18390410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarbird/pseuds/solarbird
Summary: Alliances, it has been said, are at their weakest on the brink of defeat, and on the brink of victory. After defeating the China Sea omnium, the gods of Oasis offered their help to Russia, to defeat their own Siberian threat, and Russia accepted that offer -  but made additional secret plans of their own.Hana Song attempted to game the propaganda war between Oasis and Russia, but she drastically misjudged how far Katya Volskaya would go to secure victory. Now the Gods need a miracle......and they just might have one.Of Gods and Monsters: The Arc of Conflictis a continuance ofThe Arc of Ascension,The Arc of Creation, andThe Armourer and the Living Weapon. It will be told in a series of eddas, sagas, interludes, fragments, texts, and cantos, all of which serve their individual purposes. To follow the story as it appears,please subscribe to the series.





	The Arc of Conflict, Edda 14e: it's always personal

**Author's Note:**

> dirtyclaws has launched [a public fan-run _Of Gods and Monsters_ discord server](https://discord.gg/pDZMpVT) and invites everyone to come join it. ^_^

_[two rooms, separated by the Atlantic Ocean]_

"`That was quite the press conference`," M typed, to LEITER, on deeply encrypted and well-maintained but entirely unofficial channels. "`It's a good thing our friends in Tibet have been keeping us up to date - otherwise we'd've been completely blindsided.`"

"`Us too`," came the midwesterner's response, almost immediately. "`The Security Council is meeting in emergency session starting in ten minutes, but I don't know what they'll talk about out the gate. Nobody's had time to gather all the data - even if we're working on it - and Russia's claiming self-defence and will veto anything that matters.`"

"`Unfortunately, I find I must agree. I was hoping you'd surprise me.`"

"`Any chatter on your end?`"

"`Everyone here is treating it either like Serbia 1914 or Iraq 2003`," she typed, feeling more than a small share of dread. Neither ended well.

"`An unsatisfiable demand, meant to go unfulfilled?`" came the reply.

"`Clearly. Oasis isn't going to hand over army officers for trial in Russia - it's ludicrous, and Russia knows that, and want their demands not to be met. This is just the pretext for whatever's next.`"

"`Quite the list of charges, though - murder, espionage, theft of government property...`"

"`And illegal entry without visa.`" She paused a moment, before typing again. "`That's how you really know they're out to get you.`"

On the far side of the link, LEITER had to laugh, just a bit, at the joke, but also, out of frustration at how quickly it had all blown up. Sanctions. Consulates closed, and in some cases, raided. Diplomats thrown roughly out of the country. International warrants issued by Russia for Gardner, Guillard, and Oxton. And the material backing - video frames from Siberia, from multiple dates, apparently real but difficult to analyse without context. Schematics of the omnium dome, showing computing hardware neatly removed. Pictures of dead Russian officers once in the high command, shown suitably bloody.

 _Explains a couple of those surprise retirements_ , they thought. _I wonder if it explains the rest?_

But little of that would matter, really. The public saw espionage as entertainment, if they weren't involved - particularly where Russia was concerned. There were reasons James Bond films still showed up in every classic film archive.

"`The President's in a closed-door meeting with the cabinet and the Joint Chiefs`," LEITER typed. "`Yours too?`"

"`Of course`," M responded. "`With the Defence Council, and several people from MI6.`"

"`Discussing the allegedly-stolen AI?`"

"`Presumably. Everyone's waiting for some sort of confirmation or denial out of Oasis. I don't think we'll get one, but maybe they'll surprise us.`"

 _That's what'll scare people_ , McCulloch thought. _That's what'll **stick**._

"`If taking the AI intact really was Oasis's plan, Russia's responses suddenly make a lot more sense`," LEITER typed.

"`Thank god something does`," M typed back. "`Volskaya knew going in, though. From what we know of the plan, she had to've. And she went along with it, probably planning to drop the hammer the entire time.`"

"`No wonder Oasis has been so angry`," LEITER realised, typing as they thought the words. "`Oxton and Gardner are O'Deorain's _daughter_ and _niece_, and Guillard married both of them. This is _personal_.`"

Back in England, Neelashi Shukla - M - chuckled, and typed.

"`Haven't you learned yet?`"

She paused at the keyboard, took a sip of her tea, and put the cup back down on its warmer.

"`It's always personal.`"

\-----

_[two rooms, separated - but not very much - by the streets of Oasis]_

Sombra bolted up, or tried to, making it as far as she could, consciousness flooding back all at once, heaving in air in one large gasp.

Sombra shook her head, emphatically, no, at the nurse who came running. "No. No. Don't tab me. Don't. I need. Get. Get me," she panted, "Get me Hana Song. I need her. Now."

She really wanted Satya, of course. But she knew where Satya was, and maintaining the city's shielding system mattered more than just about anything else. Even being with her, now.

Dr. Ngcobo literally flew into the room, gliding through the large door leading to the ministerial hospital labs. "I'm _quite certain_ she's busy, and quite certain _you_ should not be awake." He glared at the sedation schedule, and the automated supply system that was supposed to be keeping the hacker in twilight sleep, and somehow had failed.

"Don't, doc. No. I need to be conscious for this part. That's why I..."

Michael stared at the drug administration schedule. _Previous dose not dispensed. Current dose not queued._ "I _know_ this was right, I checked it..."

He was about to punch the manual trigger, when he glanced at the Goddess of Hacking, and saw her smirk, and knew it wouldn't work.

"...you... hacked... the _medication dispenser?!_ "

"Of course I did, doc. _Get Hana_."

"While _asleep?!_ "

"I'm the best. _**Get Hana**_."

Michael shook his head, dismayed. "Do you have any idea how _dangerous_ that was? Your conscious mind was not even..."

"I KNOW," she managed almost to shout. "That's WHY I DID IT. I need to be conscious _now_ , Slate. It was the only way I could make that happen. GET HANA."

"She is at the defence ministry. We've detected troop movements across -"

" _That's why I need to be conscious._ "

"...and absolutely cannot leave the facility!"

"Fine, Slate - then get her back online. _Please. **Now**_."

"I..." He growled, and looked over to the nurse. "Get the resident in here to run a complete stability check on her systems. And reset this dispenser to factory and reload the schedule." He thumbed his personal communicator. "Amari, Ngcobo here. Are you on comms?"

Sombra listened, tapping into the conversation without even thinking. _Of course. Fareeha._ She shook her head. _I'm smart... but not as smart when I'm under. Got to remember that._

"Get her back online. It's Sombra, and she says it's absolutely critical."

She heard a click, and then Hana's voice. "Sombra's awake?!"

"Your plan's not working, babe," the hacker interjected, waving Michael off with a grateful look, mouthing a thank you.

"I know _that_ ," the Goddess of War said, over comms, a mixture of frustrated and relieved. "Fuck, I'm glad you're alive. And still annoying. It means you're you!"

Sombra laughed, weakly, but genuinely. "I am. And... I'm going over it again... yeah. It's not gonna work."

"It _should've_ worked! Would've, if she was a gamer. She's just not thinking it through. She retires, she has everything. She didn't even have to give up the company! Just..."

"You didn't think enough about _Russia_ ," the hacker interrupted. "She's not just her, she's _Russia itself_."

"...I don't..."

"Russia's not about thinking it through. Russia's about throwing itself against the enemy until the enemy dies or there aren't any Russians left. And that's what their ultimatum means. That's they're getting ready to do."

"But that's _stupid_ ," Hana replied. "She's not stupid."

"No, but she's Russian, _oldschool_ Russian, and that's its own kind of thing." The hacker sagged a little, fighting the fatigue, every motion feeling like a slog through mud, but her mind, at least, her mind was halfway free. "It's okay, hon. Really is. You're a great strategist, but I'm better at the tactical level and you know it. Ree's the battlefield commander, you're the strategist, I'm the tactician..."

Hana went quiet, absorbing that, and Sombra bit the edge of her lip, trying to make sure she used the right words.

“You’ve spent your whole life trying to win, but making sure you did it with the least loss of life. You protect your people, you get your squad home. You spend the fewest resources for the most returns, because that’s what Korea needs. Hell, it's what _we_ need." She paused, for a moment, rallying her resources, taking a sip of her water. "You’re not wrong, chica. You're not. You’re just facing someone... who doesn’t care how many people are lost, as long as their country wins.”

Hana thought back to all those wargames she'd played with Sombra, usually winning, but sometimes winning every battle and still losing the war. There was a pattern, she realised now, and it fit, and she hated it. But she nodded. "Okay. So... can we still fix it?"

"Yeah. I think so. Not militarily - that'll buy us some time, though, and that's important. I've been thinkin' all this time, I've got ideas."

"You know... way more than you could've." Hana snorted. "Like that's new."

"Hey, when have I ever not?" She grinned, despite everything.

"But you know stuff that's happened while you were _out_ ," the Goddess of War continued. "Did... your old hacker friends do that?"

"Nah, they just fixed enough that I could get myself going again. I'm still _really_ shaky, but we owe them, chica. A lot." The hacker shook her head, putting it aside. "But that's for later. Right now, lemmie fill you in. We're gonna need to talk to Mei."

\-----

_[two ministers, separated by the desert, in Iraq]_

Lena looked at the latest tactical updates. The movement at bases following Oasis's refusal of the Russian ultimatum had become an outright forces launch, just as the movement in diplomatic circles had become a full-out propaganda war against the 'villains who would unleash another God Programme upon the world,' and that line - still not true, but with enough truth in it to make it catch - had the strategic and political world in an uproar.

Then Russia announced it was going to finish solving this problem, but didn't specify how, and then planes were in the air, and everyone knew exactly how.

"Definitely a Russian attack squadron," Fareeha said, her voice calm and businesslike. "The kind of sortie they'd fly at the Omnium, before it learned too much, and got too fast." _They're assuming we don't have Koschei online_ , she realised. _Correctly._

Moira O'Deorain nodded, nervous, watching dots move all too quickly. "Hypersonic?"

"Yep! Sure is!" Lena sounded almost excited. "Comin' in from Siberia bases, where they'd been using 'em against large omnium encampments. Looks like 40 escort fighters, six heavies."

"That is..." the Minister stared at the updating display. "...A large number."

Fareeha nodded. "It's a full strike group. They may be calling this 'surgical,' but it's a lot of firepower for one building complex."

"Yeh," Lena agreed. "They're wantin' to make a statement, in rubble."

The Goddess of the Mind grimaced, a surge of rage, contained. _Then we'll just have to make a statement of our own, won't we? Lena's been wanting her chance anyway._ She looked at her daughter, and said, simply, "Go."

"Aye-aye!" Tracer grinned, saluted, and teleported out the door. Fareeha shifted, hesitating a moment before she gave a curt nod of her own and turned to dash back to the situation room. "I'll update Angela."

"Thank you."

Moira leaned against her desk, feeling entirely out of her depth and wishing she had her daughter's confidence, at that moment, fearing for her despite - or perhaps because of - everything, as her secretary pinged her on the display.

"Minister? It's the PM."

"...I just got done speaking with the PM. What's he calling back about now?"

"The _Federal_ PM, ma'am."

"...I see."

She turned, closed her office door, and smoothed and straighten her Ministerial dress. "Put her through at once."

Berzan al-Sarraj's image appeared, a hologram, in front of the doctor's desk. "Minister O'Deorain. You swore to me that no harm would come to Iraq. What have you done?"

 _Wasting no time_ , Moira thought. _Good. There's precious little to waste._ "Yes, Prime Minister, I did. As did our entire delegation. But... isn't this a matter to be taken up with our PM, and not me? As Minister of Genetics, I don't have -"

"You and your little _research group_ ," the Kurdish woman interrupted, "are the ones really in charge over there, and we all know it. How are you going to deal with this? You _swore_ nothing like this would happen."

 _Well_ , the Minister thought. _I suppose it is time that... pretenses were stripped away._ "We did," Moira agreed. "We did. We thought the omnium would be a threat, but one we could solve - and we were correct. But we did not imagine, not even for a moment, that Russia would turn on us like this."

Al-Saffaj glared. "I don't care _who_ is now the threat; I care about what is happening. And what is happening is that an attack squadron reaching our airspace in 25 minutes, thanks to you."

"Thanks to _them_ ," she shot back, angrily. " _They're_ the ones who turned and attacked us. We have merely defended ourselves."

"What you've done is escalated the crisis by provoking them. We've stood back while you mishandled it, and now Russia has sent us notice that they are taking action against the _terrorists_ of Oasis." She held up a tablet showing a communique. "They are insisting that they have only one target, but we - obviously! - cannot take such a violation of Iraqi sovereignty standing down, which means we are apparently at war with Russia, as a _Federation_ \- and none of us are ready to deal with that."

"Prime Minister, please - hasn't our PM been in contact?"

"He's in the war room, now. And he says to remain stood down, and work through the UN."

"Have you been?"

"Of course! Our ambassador is doing everything short of throwing shoes at the Russian delegation. But how can we stand down with their air forces incoming?"

"Believe me," Minister O'Deorain said, "please believe me - it is best that you do so. None of your squadrons can compete with what the Russians are sending to us. But we have... contingency plans."

"For this?"

"Yes," Moira replied. "For _exactly_ this."

"How?"

"Leave it to us, Minister. For your own sake, keep the defence forces on full alert, but at their bases, as our PM asked. And work the UN. We are going to need it, very badly, and soon."

"We're boosting ground border defences in the north no matter what anyone else says, but otherwise..." Berzan grimaced. "You'd damned well better have some miracle ready."

The Minister smirked.

"What would you say if I told you... we do."

\-----

_[two militaries, separated by hundreds of kilometres in Asia - but not for very much longer]_

A formation of two dozen triangles plodded slowly south across a map of the airspace over Turkey and Iran, growing ever closer to a border highlighted in caution yellow. 

“Ten minutes to Iraqi airspace. 20 minutes until they reach Oasis’s air traffic control zone.” They didn't really have a term for Oasis jurisdiction, in this context, so they used the territorial lines they had.

Jack nodded, his expression grave as he watched the world tumble inexorably towards _another_ war. 

“Any reaction from the IAF?”

“Not that we can detect,” Ana reported back after taking another look at her tablet. “Air defense radars are rotating, but no signs of missile tracking or proactive countermeasures being energized. Only passive.”

“No activity at their airbases?”

“They're on high alert, but not flying. If they don't take off soon, they never will. Ground forces are moving to borders, though.”

Something in his stomach curdled. “Get Volskaya on the line.”

Ana’s eyebrows rose. “She might be a little _busy_ , Jack.”

“It’s important, Ana.” He did not raise his voice, but made sure they had good eye contact before he spoke again. “Please.”

A long moment passed before Ana nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The bomber wing had nearly reached the 10 minute marker on the tactical plot when Volskaya’s voice finally came on, the sounds of a busy situation room in the background. 

“Commander Morrison, this is _not_ -“

“Recall the strike wing, Katya. Call them back.”

There was a full second of silence.

“You are joking.”

“I’m really not,” Jack said as he walked towards the tactical plot, his hand tracing over the holographic map. “The Iraqi forces may be at action stations, but they're _not flying_ , despite your approaching squadron. They're stood down.”

“We're in communication with the Iraqi federal government. They are protesting at the UN," she snorted, "and are very upset. But clearly, not enough to stand in our way."

"And don't you know why?"

"Because they know we are _right_ to -“

“ _BECAUSE THEY KNOW IT’S A TRAP!_ ” His frustration at the entire mess finally boiled over as he thrust an angry finger through the five minute line. “They know Oasis has some kind of a response ready and they’re keeping their birds on the ground to prevent blue fire! It's the same reason you’re not seeing any SAMs leave their tubes! _Something_ is going to happen and your people will die at 30,000 feet unless you pull them back now!”

"Do you really think their air defences are stronger than that of an omnium? And even if they were, and they shoot down one squadron - we can send many, many more. Eventually, we will win."

"How many more lives are you willing to throw at this?"

Volskaya glared. “I do not have time for -“

Klaxons in both situation rooms screamed for attention as the holographic map seemed to glitch. 

“New contacts,” one of the Overwatch console techs announced, frantically trying to revise the plot. “Incoming vector... _no_ incoming vector? A false signal? No, confirmed, one - two - twenty... where the f-“

Morrison shushed the tech and listened to similar exclamations over comms as Volskaya spun, listening to the new appraisal. «How many?!» he heard her ask, before violent curse in barracks Russian came over the line. «We don't know, we cannot keep track! The signals are indeterminate.» «Welder alpha just went offline!»

Jack’s eyes darted over the screen as more and more Russian contacts disappeared, almost too quickly to follow, and [UNIDENTIFIED] contacts sprang up and then vanished, just as quickly, seemingly at random, the gold triangles multiplying even as the crimson ones disappeared.

 _Oh, God,_ he thought as he recognized exactly what was happening. It had been many years since he’d seen the simulations, yet it was eerily similar…

Another voice came over the line, their tone rising from urgency to panic. «Can you track them?» «No! They have to have some new jamming system.» « _How many of those things do they have?!_ »

“One,” he whispered.

With a look over at Ana and a slash across his throat, the line to the Russians was cut, and the two of them watched the last Russian signals blink out, the screen suddenly clear of both Russian and [UNIDENTIFIED] signals, as if dozens of lives hadn’t just ended in plasma blasts and missile detonations a split second before.

The tactical offer shook their head. "That's... not an error. All systems report normal, and the skies are clear. The attacking aircraft... are just _gone_ , Commander. No retreat vector. No plottable destination."

"Understood," the Strike Commander said, his eyes closed, for just a moment.

“You know what that was, Jack," the senior Amari said, quietly.

“Revise our threat assessments for Oasis,” he said, without looking back at the Overwatch Taipei commander. “Create a new capability class for time-travelling, teleporting military aircraft, category codename _Slipstream_."

Morrison squared his shoulders.

"Effective immediately, _Slipstream_ \- presumably piloted by Lena Oxton - should be categorised as a deployed Class 1 first strike weapon. Revise all scenarios appropriately.”

His shoulders fell, a little.

"The war... goes on."

**Author's Note:**

> This is the twelfth instalment of _Of Gods and Monsters: The Arc of Conflict_. To follow the story, [subscribe to the series via this link](https://archiveofourown.org/series/972024), rather than to the individual works.


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